Charles was just about to step forward and kiss it into colour, when the sound of his own name arrested his advance.
"I would not, dearest, alarm you unnecessarily," said Mrs. Cameron; "but you must make Charles have medical advice: he looks wretchedly ill, and grows worse every day."
He saw Ellen start, as if first awakened to the terrible consciousness of her husband's ill health—he saw her bow her face on her hands in an agony of tears; but he staid not to console her—his heart was hardened by the fear of death. "I have been married three months to-day; I will go and look at the skin of shagreen." While unlocking the writing-case in which it lay, he caught sight of his shadow in a glass opposite: he beheld, as it were, the spectre of himself. Shuddering, he hurriedly opened the drawer. "The skin of shagreen is not here!" exclaimed he—and sank on the sofa breathless with delight. The fatal skin had disappeared, and yet he lived! "Fool, fool that I have been, to allow a nameless dread to poison my food, to fever my sleep! Ellen, my sweet Ellen, we shall be happy yet!" The remembrance of her sorrow rose to his mind.
No longer stern and selfish with a gloomy dread, he opened the window; to cross the turf would bring him to her side immediately. The wind swept through the casement, and blew the papers, &c. to his feet. He turned pale, his eyes swam;
